Revenge Against Term Papers
by zrose
Summary: Precisely what the title says. A parody of the life of James Gatz and Nick Carraway's summer in epic scale. Beware of OOCness, seals, and Big Faults. I don't own anything that you recognize. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I am lame. Your stereotypical Gatsby parody, except it needs work.

Nick: When I was young, my father told me not to judge people because they could have gone through different experiences compared to the one's I've had. So, I'm a really good listener. My family is from the Mid-West, and they run hardware business. The reason I came to West Egg was…

Gatsby: Isn't this story supposed to be about me?

Nick: Yes, but I'm the narrator, so the book is more about what I think of you than anything else.

Gatsby: I'd have to disagree with you on that one, old sport. Anyway, who's to say the audience would have the same opinion as your own on this summer? No offence, but you can't really be taken at face value.

Nick: It just makes the story sound spiffy, and Fitzgerald was reading a bit too much Joseph Conrad. I think I still do a pretty good job though, with my added insights and so on.

Gatsby: Yes, but that wasn't really much of your own doing as much as the author's, was it? And how are the readers going to know about what I felt during my reunion with Daisy?

Nick: You know Daisy?

Gatsby: It's complicated. And how are they going to know about how Daisy feels about this all? I'd want to know. Especially since you accidentally say your narration out loud * notices Nick's confused look * don't worry, we'll ignore you.

Nick: Well, you aren't the only one bothered by it. Fitzgerald called it the Big Fault in the whole novel and really regretted it.

Gatsby: We're really breaking the fourth wall here, aren't we?

Nick: And cannon. You should probably go before a mob of angry English teachers attack.

Gatsby * nods * You're right. I've fought with mobsters, Germans, and deranged heiresses, but those English teachers are scary! Well then, thanks for the tip-off, I'll see you again sometime soon, old sport. * vanishes into thin air, because he is Great *

Nick: * clears throat * Ahem. Since we've wasted so much time already, I think I may have to skip to the first time I visited the Buchanans.

Tom: * stands there proudly in his riding clothes * I'm more of a man than you are…. * pauses, then begins to beg * Like me! I'm really a good person, I just happen to be a spoiled jerk that doesn't really consider other peoples' feelings.

Daisy: We're so glad you're here, Nick. Really, we truly are, aren't we Jordan?

Jordan: Can't talk. I'm balancing an invisible beach ball to feel the plight of oppressed circus seals.

Nick: You're really scary.

Daisy: Aren't you two so cute together?

Tom: Care for a drink?

Jordan: No, I'm training.

Daisy: By lying on a sofa all afternoon thinking about circus animals?

Jordan: It's a mental exercise. * They all give her strange looks * What? Golf is 50% mental… You live on West Egg, I know somebody there."

Nick: I don't know anybody...

Jordan: NO DOUBLE NEGATIVES! ... That's one of my pet peeves. Gatsby lives there.

Nick: (is not allowed to answer)

Daisy * spills her drink, screams, and looks around the room nervously * Gatsby? Gatsby's here? Who's Gatsby? I certainly don't know a Gatsby… * laughs like a madwoman, then stops abruptly* Let's go out to the porch.

(They go out to the porch)

Daisy: Why candles? It's going to be the longest day of the year soon. Maybe we should watch for it, I always miss it.

Jordan: (sarcastically) Why don't we plan something? We could get lost frolicking in the woods and couple swap.

Daisy: That sounds like a wonderful idea! Let's plan something! What should we do? Do you think we'll need invitations? Maybe we could go with a toga theme…

Nick: Well, I…

Daisy: Ow! You hurt my finger, Tom! That's what I get for marrying the Incredible Hulk, I suppose.

Tom: I hate that adjective, hulking.

Jordan: You know what an adjective is?

Daisy: Tom reads all sort of deep books with long words in them. Why, just yesterday he finished The Idiot's Guide to Bigotry.

Tom: It had a great moral message. We're Nordics.

Jordan: I'm from Kentucky. And I think we came there by route of England.

Tom: No, I mean, with our awesome white people-ness, we've invented everything cool in the world, like science and art, and stuff. * the telephone rings *

Nick: What about the Chinese, the Ancient Egyptians, the Mesopotamians, and the Indians?

Tom.: … I just need a hobby, okay?

Daisy: Our butler has a bad nose because he polished too much silver!

Butler: You rang?

Daisy: No, Jeeves.

Jeeves: (murmur's in Tom's ear, and they leave)

It's quiet. Too quiet.

Daisy: You know Nick; you look a lot like a rose.

Nick: I don't look anything like a rose, but thank you. * Daisy ignores him again, and leaves *

Awkward silence.

Nick: Sooo… That Gatsby, huh?

Jordan: STFU, I'm eavesdropping. * cranes her ear, and tilts her head to the side *

Nick: What's going on?

Jordan: Tom's got a woman in New York.

Tom and Daisy come back, but then the telephone rings again.

Daisy: Those telemarketers! Always calling at the wrong time! (No one laughs at her joke)

Nick: Are you okay?

Daisy: I'm cynical. I was going to give you an anecdote about my daughter that would give you insight into my character, but would you look at the time. * pushes Nick and Jordan out the door * Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a tub full of ice cream and quality moping time.

Nick: That's not very in character, and you mentioned time twice.

Daisy: Who cares, and time is the most mentioned word in the novel! Now, scram!

Jordan suddenly vanishes as well, but Nick doesn't seem to care. As he drives home, he notices some guy stretching out for something.

Nick: It's a little late to be playing Frisbee now, isn't it?

No response.

Nick: Hello? Dude, are you deaf? *he notices the green light in the distance and stares at it for a while to see what the fuss is about* That doesn't explain anything! (He is talking to no one, because Gatsby left ten minutes ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Cut to the Valley of Ashes, where everything is grey an depressing and symbolic. The eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg glow creepily like neon lights were attached to the rims of the glasses (powered by its intense symbolism and the fervent heat that goes into the many, many arguments about what the eyes really stand for in the first place, though you'd think it was pretty straightforward.)

Nick: Why are we here? (notices how grey everything looks, it's almost like the beginning of the Wizard of Oz grey, though he wouldn't know about that, since the movie would not come out for a decade or so)

Tom: (literally drags Nick by the arm) I want you to meet my girl. Besides, it's not like you have anything better to do. (Nick tries to protest, but realizes he's right. They finally come to a tiny, run down group of buildings)

Nick: She lives on a yellow brick…street?

Tom: I'd say it's more of a road. Too small to be a street really.

They walk into a large airplane hanger. Above the hager is a small sign: George B. Wilson. Ballons, Tricycles, Wheelbarrows, Telephone Booths and Coffee Machines Bought and Sold and Auctioned and Bartered and Loaned and Towed and Transported to Alternate Demensions and or Planets and or Time Zones. Underneath that is a larger, newer sign: Due To Popular Demand, We Sell Cars Too.

The interior was painted bright orange with blue polka dots, and Tom and Nick try to shield their eyes from the sight.

Tom: It burns!

Wilson: (hands them both a pair of sunglasses) Here you go.

Nick: Thanks.

Tom: When are you going to repaint this place? I think I get a migraine every time I come here.

Wilson: (wearing his own pair of slightly broken, way too big sunglasses) The same day you give me that car of yours.

Tom: (shrugs) Fair enough.

Myrtle: (Wearing a tight blue dress,and is bursting out of the seems. Probably looks like what Mama Rose would have looked like when she was young) Hellllooo boys. (turns to Wilson) Why don't you get us some chairs?

Wilson: Sure thing, Cabbagecakes. (gives her a kiss, she cringes. He runs upstairs.

Myrtle: (grabs her coat) Let's go.

Nick: Won't he notice that we aren't here by the time he come back?

Myrtle: I hid all the chairs in one of the silly contraptions he…borrowed from some Doctor. I think it was called the TARDIS or something like that. He'll never find them.

They take the train, then hitch a ride on a psychedelic rainbow taxi with yellow and green checks where the black and white ones should be. It's very hip, if not illegal.

Myrtle: Let's stop here (motions to a stand full of exotic snakes) I want one. Excuse me,

(man looks up at her, he scarily like Salazar Slytherin) how much for this one?

Salazar: These magnificent creatures are not for sale! You have to deserve the right to be their familiar!

Tom: Hsssshssss….

Salazar (smiles, is so out of practice that it looks like a painful grimace) Done! (Hand Myrtle a large green boa to wear around her neck)

Myrtle: Oh! It matches my eyes! Thank you, Tom.

Nick: What was that?

Tom: Parstletongue. Comes in handy in times like these.

Nick is about to ask what that means when a huge flock of sheep runs over him as they pass Fifth Avenue.

At last they finally reach the apartment. Myrtle fiddles with the keys for a while until she can finally open the door.

Larger group of blurry, unimportant people: Surprise! Happy six-month anniversary!

Myrtle: (beaming) Aww, you guys shouldn't have!

Catherine: But you told us to.

Mr. McKee: Am I still get paid to take pictures of this?

Tm: No ones taking pictures!

Mr. McKee: (sighs) There goes this months rent.

They all proceed to get drunk. And someone mentions Gatsby for foreshadowing purposes, but they're mostly just really drunk.

Catherine: Neither of them can stand the person they're married to.

Nick: So she doesn't like Wilson?

Myrtle: THAT $%^$#&*&($%%#$^&()*&#^$# ? Of course not!

Nick: A simple 'no' would have worked.

Myrtle: Why don't I tell you about how I met Tom? We were both on our way to an Arachibutyrophobia Anonymous meeting…

Tom: Myrtle!

Myrtle: What? That peanut butter is some scary stuff, especially when it sticks to the roof of your mouth! Anyway, at the AA, I couldn't keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked at me, I had to pretend to stare at his peanut-butter sandwich. It was frightening. It was fried and it had bananas in it! Well, after the meeting, he grabbed my arm and dragged me into a taxi. As we drove away, he offered me a bite of his sandwich. I didn't really want to try it, but all I could think about in my mind was how you can't live forever. You can live forever. And you know what, the sandwich was pretty good.

The party gets more drunk than was thought physically possible, and due to some misunderstanding, ends up in a series of wacky events that no one will remember by the end of the day.

Somehow they end up on the taboo wife topic.

Tom: I don't want you saying her name.

Myrtle: Daisy. Daisy, Daisy, DAISY!

Tom: (breaks her nose)

Myrtle: Oh! My nose! (Myrtle, Myrtle, Myrtle.)

Nick: I guess we should go now.

Mr. McKee: Good idea. I'll see you sometime later, right?

They hear a loud scream of pain.

Nick: Sure. (They leave.)


	3. Chapter 3

Cut to a giant party. It's really huge. There are buffets full of food, fountains of alcohol, suckling pigs so fresh that if you listened close enough you could hear them squeal. And there's a giant orchestra, but they aren't edible.

The music is pounding, people's voices have gone up two decibels, and Nick was trying to sleep. Slowly, he gets up out of bed and goes out to the porch.

Nick: Could you keep it down here?

Gatsby's chauffer walks up from the other house in a bright robin's egg blue uniform.

Chauffer: This isn't the movie version, you know. You're actually invited tonight.

Nick: (embarrassed that he's been caught in his green and pink whale pyjamas) Oh. Well, I'll be there in a few minutes.

Nick is now in more respectable white flannels, though with what everyone else is wearing, he'd have probably fit in with the pyjamas.

Nick: Has anyone seen Gatsby? (No one knows, decides to get drunk, and then sees Jordan. He's not very good at sticking to things.)

They aimlessly walk around until they see Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in matching yellow dresses.

Tweedle Dum: Sorry you lost!

Jordan: (mumbles) I would've won if they hadn't caught my foot kicking the ball…

Tweedle Dum: What was that?

Jordan: Nothing! Do you come to these shindigs often?

Tweedle Dee: Not too often. Last time I was here though, I ripped my dress falling off the chandelier. He asked me for my name and address, and then sent me a new dress, and a parachute!

Tweedle Dum: It's like he doesn't want trouble from nobody!

Jordan: No. Double. NEGATIVES!!! (Throws drink at surprised girl, runs away)

Nick follows her into the library. They meet a guy with Elton John sized glasses, pouring himself into the books (by reading them, he's not melting)

Owl Eyes: Wow! They're real books! Like, really real!

Nick: Really?

Owl Eyes: (shoves a book at him) Really!

Nick flips through the book, it's real.

People are now doing stunts on the lawn. Someone realized they weren't a contortionist, another realized they actually had a fear of heights and tightropes, and another forgot that fairy lights do not count as clothing. They were all drinking hubcaps full of champagne.

A random guy walks up to Nick.

Random guy: Were you in the war?

Nick: Yeah.

They talk about serving in nearby divisions. And the war. And ethics. And philosophy. And the meaning of life.

Random guy: You should come with me on my hydroplane, old sport. Oh, BTW, I'm Gatsby.

Nick: Like, OMG! You can't be serious!

Gatsby: I'm afraid I am. If you need anything, just ask, I'll be in the other room. (Walks away)

They party some more. Jordan goes to talk to Gatsby, then there's more partying. Owl Eyes shows off his magnificent not-trying-to-drive skills by crashing his car.

Nick: Oh, just so you know, I do have a life. And a job, but it's not that great. I had a thing going with an accountant, but her brother kept giving me angry glares. (It was tragic) So, when I'd go home from work, I'd mentally stalk random girls in the street. Then I started dating Jordan Baker. She's dishonest, but I don't really care, she's cute. And she likes me because I'm honest; she knows that she'd never be able to get away with the things she did if she dated someone just like her. Actually, this reminds me of the time I asked Jordan to drive. (Shudders)

The car zigzags on the road, ploughing through bushes, signs, and whatever unfortunate piece of matter that gets in the way.

Nick: You're a terrible driver

Jordan: Oh, other people in the road will watch where they're going.

Nick: What if they're idiots?

Jordan: I hope not. (Scrunches nose) I dislike stupid people. (Pauses) And careless ones too, for the sake of irony, you know.

Nick: (nods.) Of course.

Nick: (voiceover) I thought I almost loved her, but I kept holding myself back. I still had to break up with my sweaty-moustached girlfriend back in Minnesota.


	4. Chapter 4

(voiceover Nick): On Sunday morning while church bells rang, the world and its mistresses (though as a planet, it must be difficult to have such things) twinkled on over to Gatsby's hilarious lawn.

Crazy lady: He's an alien (moves somewhere inside his flowers) One time he vaporized a man with his lazer gun once he found out his secret, and his people are going to anhiliate us all. Reach me a rose, honey, and pour me some of that on the petals.

Nick: Once I wrote down the names of everyone who visited Gatsby's house that fateful summer. I wrote it on an old time table for symbolic effect, but that disintegrated, so sadly you won't be able to hear about all the weird, petty people that mooched on Gatsby's free booze. They were all pretty irrelevant anyway, but it would have been a great way to show a glimpse of and criticize the lives of the rich.

One morning in late July, at nine o'clock, Gatsby's glorious car rolled onto my driveway and over my foot. I screamed, but no one heard me as it gave out a burst of melody from its three-tooted horn.

Gatsby: Oh come now, old sport. You're starting to sound like someone who owes me money. Anyway, you're having lunch with me today…

Nick: Since when? (leans over the car and tries to put weight on his foot. He yelps)

Gatsby: Don't do that old sport, I just got this waxed. (notices that Nick noticed the car.) It's pretty, isn't it old sport. (tries to give Nick a better view, as if he wants to worship it)

Haven't you ever seen it before?

(voiceover Nick): Of course I had. It was cream, with chrome along the sides, dashboards, and tires. The was glass everywhere, not just along the windshields, but there were tiny glass windows built inside the doors and the seats as well, with one that opened into a glass door that led to a glass panelled trunk. Looking back, it probably was not the safest car, but was beautiful and it mirrored a thousand, no, a dozen suns in the sunlight. I jumped in the car, sitting on one of the mirrored seats and we headed to town.

(Tries talking to Gatsby, but the conversations are boring. Suddenly, Gatsby slams the brakes of his car. They lurch forward, and Nick almost falls out onto the road.)

Gatsby: Look here, old sport. What do you think of me?

Nick: What do I think of you? What do I think of you? Well….you're um, pretty, and…

Gatsby (frowns): Well, I'm going to set the record straight. Here's the E True Hollywood Story version of my life, something no one else knows about. (Nick leans forward to hear him better.)

Gatsby: My parents were very wealthy wizard-adventurers. They were unfortunately killed by the evil dark Lord Voldemort. He tried to kill me to, but because my mother sacrificed herself he was unable to. Needless to say, I defeated him as an infant. I was then trained by the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and then spent seven years in England at a school called Hogwarts. Everyone in my family goes there, it's a tradition.

(voiceover Nick): For some reason, I felt like he was lying about some of this.

Gatsby: My godfather, and everyone else I knew, died and I came into a great deal of money. (looks like a sad little woobie, and Nick believes him, almost.)

Gatsby: I traveled on a quest to find a magical ring that could help me defeat the Dark Lord, but the ring only turned him into stone. So, I had to go on another quest with my good friend from Hogwarts, Indianna Jones, to find the special, magically sequined ruby red slippers which I used to hit the statuized Voldemort with repetedly. His nose crumbled off a little, but the fiend still remained intact, so I threw him into the Eternal Bog of Stench for him to be devoured by the Rodents of Unusual Size. Also, during this time, something very bad from long ago happened to be, but I do not wish to mention it.

Nick: Did one of the Rodents bite you and turn you into a frog as well?

Gatsby: Why, yes, they did, but the shoes helped me return to my human form. Sadly, that used up all of their magic and now they are just normal silver pumps.

Nick: I see.

Gatsby: Then came the war, old sport. It was a great relief, and I tried very hard to die, but I seemed to bear an enchanted life. Perhaps it was from the Elixir of Life that Obi Wan taught me to make, but I digress. Anyway, I became a splendid war-hero. I single-handedly killed three German divisions in two days with one machine gun. Every Allied country gave me a medal, even Montenegro! And I didn't even know where it was at the time! (reaches into his pocket to pull out a medal with a foot long radius)

Nick: How did you fit that in there?

Gatsby: Read it! (it says, "To our exalted hero, Major Gatsby, the Bestest Guy in the World." It looks pretty authentic.)

Nick: He also showed me a picture from his Hogwarts days. It was of him and a bunch of boys chilling out in some Gothicly design campus. Gatsby had a cricket bat in his hand. So it was all true, and I was amazed and fascinated.

Gatsby: Who are you talking to?

Nick: Don't you have something to tell me?

Gatsby: Oh, that. Miss Baker will tell you later.

Nick: I don't want to spend my date with Jordan talking about you!

Gatsby: Or do you?

Nick: Oh, don't go on about that theory that everyone thinks I'm in love with you! I'm not! I'm just incredibly fascinated and obsessed, that's all.

Gatsby: Okay then, old sport.

(Pass Valley of Ashes, Myrtle is trapped into a hug of doom by Wilson as she tries to scrawl HELP ME on the window.)

Suddenly, a policeman pulls them over. Gatsby hands him a pass. The man blanches, gives Gatsby a bow, and then proceeds to runs away as fast as his legs can carry him, leaving his motorcyle behind.)

Nick: What was that? The picture of Hogwarts?

Gatsby: Yes, that one in the back has terrible hair.

Nick: (stares blankly)

Gatsby: No, in all seriousness, I was able to help the commissioner out of…well, lets just say it was a sticky situation. (giggles) So, as a thank-you, he gave me this All-You-Can-Speed Pass. Just as long as I don't kill anyone on the road, I'm clean.

Nick: (jokingly) What about off the road?

Gatsby: …

(voiceover Nick with driving montage music): We drove by a very ominously foreshadowing funeral.

Gatsby: (honks) Come on, you guys are blocking the road!

Mourners: (to busy mourning to care)

Nick: I was glad Gatsby's car added some festive cheer to the event.

(They drive by some overly exaggerated cariacatures of black people in a stretch limo and laugh at them. It was mildly racist, but they all had some good laughs anyway because this is the 1920s. (Cue a "We're the Best of Friends" type song)

Nick: I felt like anything could happen as we entered the city, almost as if we were entering Disney World, even though that would not be invented for another fifty years or so. You get my idea.

(By noon they reach a small, dimly-lit restaurant. Nick tries to paw his way in the dark and manages to bump into a few people. He also strikes up a provocative conversation with a coat rack)

Nick: Not much of a talker, huh? That's okay, it's nice having someone listen to me for a change.

Gatsby: There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. I wanted to introduce you to someone… (smiles) Hold on to this one Nick, she's a keeper.

Nick: I know. (Gatsby drags him away by the wrist) Wait! I never found out her name!

Gatsby: Mr. Carraway, this is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim.

Wolfsheim: (shakes hand) So do you know what I said to him?

Nick: What?

Wolfsheim: Surprise! Surprise! That's not my ear canal either! (random, invisible people laugh) Oh, hello. I'm a stereotype: the Sketchy Gangster. Do you want to know how I got these cufflinks?

Nick: (notices the full set of teeth on his sleeves) No.

Wolfsheim: Are you here for a gonnegation?

Gatsby: No! (pushes him out of the way)

Wolfsheim: (sniffs) Well, I see when I'm not wanted. I guess I'm too old to hang out with hip young things like you. (turns to Nick) Enjoy your youth while you can, before you start getting liverspots and loose your memory to the point that you have to wear your dentures on your sleeves in order to keep them straight. It's not fun.

Nick: Dully noted. (spots Tom) Oh, hey! (waves).

Tom: Nicky! (jumps over a table, then does a few somersaults, landing right in font of them. Two nearby diners give him a 10, and the one whose pudding he landed in gives him a 6.) How've you been? Long time no see! (shakes hands with Tom, then awkwardly with Gatsby,) What are you doing here?

Nick: Having lunch with Gats…(they turn around to look for him, only to find him running for the door.) Hmm… must be the highballs.

(Cut to the Plaza Hotel. Jordan's pouring some bubbling, pink tea for them in tiny timble-sized cups. Nick tries to eat one of the quarter-sized scones,)

Jordan: It was a dark winter's night….

Nick: (listening intently) Really?

Jordan: No, it was the middle of August. Or was it October? Anyway, I was walking along from one place to another, half on the sidewalks and half on the lawns. I was happier on the lawns because I had on shoes from England with rubber nobs on the soles…

Nick: Could you get to the point, please?

Jordan: You're so rude, Nick. I still don't know why I'm still with you.

Nick: Is it my charm?

Jordan: No, I think it's your lack of it. Makes you better arm candy. Anyway, Daisy Fay was the hottest chick in Louisville. All the boys wanted to tap that, but they were at the war, so the spent time with the boys over at Camp Taylor. She also had a fetish for everything white, she dressed in it, drove only white cars, everything. It's supposed to be some sort of weird symbol.

Nick: Everything seems to be.

Jordan: Will you stop interrupting me! Yeah, she liked this officer, Gatsby, and they were really going steady for a while, probably a good week or so. But I didn't really see much of Daisy for a while. There were rumors that she was going to run off to say goodbye to some soldier going overseas…

Nick: No gueses as to who that could be.

Jordan: (scowls) Well, she was back to her vapid old self in no time. Next year, Tom Buchannan came to town, and he was the bee's knees. All flashy and fancy, with four private cars! He didn't have a reason for being there though. Maybe he said something about plot exposition, but no one could understand his accent.

Nick: And then?

Jordan: They got married. The night before, Daisy got all drunk and said she wouldn't go through with it, but she did.

Nick: Aren't you going to go into more detail, maybe imitate the drunken voices and stuff?

Jordan: At the Plaza? I mean, it's great storytelling, but come on Nick, I'm not going to make myself look like an idiot at the Plaza.

(At this point, Eloise drops a water balloon on her head. She screams, and get up to chase the little girl into a potted plant. She exhales, straightens her dress, and heads back to her table.) Where was I? Oh yes, they travelled all over the world living a rich, vacuous, jaded existence, blah blah, they had a girl, Tom had a few affairs, Daisy has a certain voice, yadda yadda, I don't really need to explain it all, you know the rest.

(They walk out of the Plaza and decide to take a romantic moonlight ride in the park. Just cut to scene, there's no need to explan as to how they get there.)

Nick: It's a funny coincidence, you know. With all of that history, now they're neighbors.

Jordan: No. Gatsby bought that house so he could be close to Daisy.

Nick: Oh…That's kind of creepy.

Jordan: Yeah….Let's get them back together!

Nick: Great idea!

(They cuddle.)


	5. Chapter 5: Part I

Nick: When I came back that night, I thought my house was on fire, but only for a moment. The whole corner of the peninsula blazed with light that fell in elongated glints. I had barely retrieved a bucket of water from the kitchen when I saw Gatsby standing on the lawn. I noticed that the lights were coming from his house.

At first I thought this was a party, but I noticed no one was there. Perhaps they were playing hide-and-go-seek.

(to Gatsby) Your house looks like the World's Fair.

Gatsby: Does it? I didn't notice. Let's go to Coney Island now.

Nick: It's two in the morning.

Gatsby: So? (seeing Nick's sceptical look) If we asked, I'm sure they could open it up again for us. But, if your that adamant against it, how about a go at the Swimming Pool of Immanent Doom?

Nick; Um, no. I'm going to go now.

Gatsby: Wait! The pool's just a misnomer. It's perfectly safe! (Seeing that Nick is still not convinced, he lets the subject go. He just keeps staring at him in anticipation)

Nick: Could you stop staring? It's kind of…

Gatsby: Well…

Nick: Well what?

Gatsby: Aren't you going to tell me about your scheme with Miss Baker to play matchmaker?

Nick: (laughs, clapping hands) Oh, I get it! That rhymed!

Gatsby: (sighs)

Nick: Oh, I am inviting Daisy over for tea.

Gatsby: Well, I don't want to put you under any pressure to invite her. This is the love of my life after all, who was taken away from me by the cruel man-beast known as Tom, and for whom I've been clawing my way up the social ladder so I can hear her beautiful voice one last time before I can die a happy man.

Nick: I don't know if I should be impressed or scared of the fact you were able to say all of that in one breath. Are you sure you're not an alien?

Gatsby: No, I'm just Great.

Nick: I was thinking of having her over the day after tomorrow…

Gatsby: (gasps) So soon? I don't know if I'm prepared for this. I should at least make some congratulatory sacrifices to the Daisy shrine first. Then…are you having her over for tea here?

Nick: Yes. Do you have a problem with that?

Gatsby: Not at all. It's just…the grass needs to be cut. And the wall could do with a fresh coat of paint, and we could put a gazebo over there, and some lights. Oh, and flowers, lots of flowers would be good.

Nick: Where am I going to…

Gatsby: I'll take care of the rest, old sport. Say, you don't make much money, do you? I'm sure I can find something for you…

Nick: I'm kind of busy, but thanks.

Gatsby: Well, I think that just about covers my relevance to the plot for the day. Everything should be ready by tomorrow. Goodbye, old sport.

Voiceover Nick: And ready it was. Gatsby went all out remodelling my yard, and covering my house with flowers. Lots of flowers, most of which I was allergic to.

Nick: (sneezes, then trips over one of the vases) Stupid flowers…

Gatsby: (popping up from nowhere) Is everything ready?

Nick: (screams, and falls over again.) The grass looks fine. (notices how pale Gatsby is, and his lack of sleep) Are you alright?

Gatsby: (looks anxious) I fine! Swell! Just peachy…it's going to stop raining soon, they said so in the Journal. I hope it stops. Do you read the Journal? Do you have tea?

Nick: Caffine is the last thing you need right now, but I did get some cakes. Will they do?

Gatsby: Of course!

Nick: (waiting for rest of the sentence): Yes?

Gatsby: Oh! I'm sorry, my bad…old sport.

Nick: Much better.

(Gatsby sits down on the sofa, sort of, and leafs through one of Nick's boring economics books upside down as his feet shake. After a while, he throws the book on the floor.)

Gatsby: She's not coming. Of course she wouldn't come, why would she? I knew this was a bad idea, I don't know why I…I'm going home before this day can get any worse. I need to go angst somewhere. (looks at his watch) Oh, for the sake of symbolism, I also don't have the time to wait for her.

Nick: It's only been two minutes.

Gatsby: You just don't get it, do you, old sport? (shlumps back into the chair)

(They can hear a car pulling up to the driveway. Nick goes out to the yard.)

Daisy: Is this where you live…my dearest one? (The rain is pouring heavily. Her hair is ruined, her eyeliner running, but she still manages to look gorgeous.)

Nick: Excuse me?

Daisy: (bats her eyelashes) Aren't you in love with me? It's perfectly understandable if you are, who couldn't be?

Nick: Daisy! We're cousins!

Daisy: So? Considering the time period we're living in, it's not really that much of a big deal.

Nick: Yes, but…just come inside.

Daisy: What about our cute banter?

Nick: Tell your chauffer to come back in an hour.

Daisy: Come back in an hour Ferdie! (to Nick) His name is Ferdie.

Nick: That's nice, if not slightly irrelevant. Does the gasoline affect his nose?

Daisy: No, but it seems a little too old to become a running gag.

(They go inside. The living room's empty.)

Nick: That's funny. (Hears a knock on the doorbell)

Daisy: What's funny?

(Sees Gatsby standing in a puddle.)

WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE TEMPORARY DELAY IN THIS PARODY AS THE AUTHOR HIMSELF HAS SAID THIS SCENE IS NOT FUNNY. WE WILL STILL CONTINUE ANYWAY AFTER MR. FITZGERALD STOPS ROLLING AROUND IN HIS GRAVE SOUNDING ANGUISHED. Thank you for your patience.

Nick: What was that? (Looking up at the giant text floating above their heads)

Gatsby: Hm. Third person. Didn't think they'd resort to that anytime soon. (Notices Nick is still standing at the doorway gaping at the text) We've wasted a great deal of time already, old sport. Lets just get on with this. (trudges into the living room)

(The moment of truth. Gatsby and Daisy stare at each other. Nick stares at them from the hallway. An awkward silence ensues.)

Half an hour later:

Daisy: (breaks silence) I am…I certainly am awfully glad to see you again. Awfully, certainly so.

Gatsby: We've met before.

Daisy: I've already said that.

(Another awkward silence. So this is true love. Nick goes into the room. Gatsby makes a clock fall over in an attempt to look cool. He catches it.)

Daisy: I understand that this is part of the deep symbolism on time and Jay's attempt to repeat the past, but this is getting ridiculous.

Gatsby: I'm sorry about the clock.

Nick: Don't be, you didn't break it. (Notices Gatsby's glare and proceeds to go along with the plot, Daisy tries to as well) I mean, it's an old clock.

Daisy: It's been a while…

Gatsby: Five years, eight months, thirteen days (checks clock in his hands) three hours this November. (Puts clock back on the mantle piece)

(Silence. The rain can be heard pittering on the shingles.)

Finn: Tea Time! (Proceeds to cheerily hand out cakes and tea. Everyone else frowns.)

Nick: Well, look at the time, I better be going now.

Daisy: But this is your house.

Nick: I, um, have errands?

Gatsby: I'll follow you out. (Closes door.)

Daisy: Well, that's not suspicious at all… (takes a sip of tea.)

Gatsby: Oh God! This was a terrible idea, I knew I shouldn't have done this. I better leave before it gets worse.

Nick: That's stupid, and rude. Go back in there, you're leaving her all alone.

Gatsby: You're right. Daisy shouldn't be left alone in there, something terrible could happen to her! (rushes inside)

Nick: I stare out at the vast expansion of my muddy lawn, and at Gatsby's crazy house. There's a funny story there around the time it was built that involves some sort of mockery on capitalism, or some sort of commentary on the American views on society, but really, it's just ugly.

(Goes inside and interrupts the couple's tearful reunion.)

Nick: It's stopped raining.

Gatsby: Really? (looks ecstatic) Did you hear that? It stopped raining.

Daisy: (crying tears of joy) I'm glad, Jay.

Nick: It's not that big a deal, it's just water.

Gatsby: Let's go, I want to show off my house.

Daisy: Goody! I'll go get my jacket with the shiny brass buttons of golden symbolism that reflects my character!

Nick: You sure I should come?

Gatsby: Of course, I want everyone, and I mean Everyone to see it, and since you're the narrator, it just makes sense. Plus, Daisy needs a chaperone.

Nick: Before I could protest to how preposterous that statement sounded, I remembered that I had forgotten to switch the towels out of the bathroom Daisy had gone to wash her face in.

Gatsby: Who's the fool now, huh?

Nick: What?

Gatsby: Never mind. My house looks pretty, right?

Nick: Yeah, sure. Whatever.

Gatsby: Took me three years of blood, sweat and toil to earn the money for this place. Worth every penny.

Nick: I thought you inherited your money.

Gatsby: Oh, I...lost it. In the war, sort of. I got it back doing stuff. Just stuff. Don't ask. (glares) Or else.

Nick:…

Daisy: (squeals, pointing) Is that your house? It's so big and shiny!

Nick: Daisy was never one for subtlety.

As we walked through the gilded rooms, I kept feeling like people were about to pop out from behind the furniture at any time, like a demonic surprise party.

Oh, while we were there, we also caught Mr. Klipspringer, the moocher, doing pilates.

He (Gatsby, not Klipspringer) could not stop staring at her, so much so that he almost fell down a flight of stairs. It was as if her response gave everything its value.

Gatsby: That's because it does.

Daisy: (giggles) We haven't seen your bedroom yet.

Nick: Should I go now?

Gatsby: No, don't go! We're just getting to the best part!

Nick: (slightly disturbed) Alright then.

The bedroom was pretty simple, well except for the toilet seat made of pure gold, but that's pretty G in itself. Daisy just grabbed a nearby brush and started fixing her hair,

Gatsby: It's the funniest thing, old sport. I can't. When I try to…

Nick: Do I sense some demystifying of the mysterious man? Some self-explained character development other than my assumptions? (Runs up to Gatsby and shakes him) Snap out of it, man, do something!

(A/N: There's more, but I'm just going to have to post it later, this is getting far too long. Oh, and about that term paper I did a year ago. I got a C on it. Not surprising, huh?)


	6. Chapter 5: Part II, Resurgam

(I don't own anything, especially not any famous songs. Now, as soon as you hear "Jazz Baby," you will be hypnotized, and will not get mad at me for the delay, or anything else.

On the count of three: one…two…go.)

Gatsby: Now, where were we?

Nick: At the iconic scene. You were running down like an overwound clock.

Gatsby: Well, I say old sport, that's not a nice thing to say about a man my age!

Nick: Don't worry, old man, we're obligated to mention the theme of time and it's fleeting nature.

Daisy: It's very ironic when you consider we're never going to age.

(They stare at her for a moment, slightly shocked that they had forgotten she had been there the whole time. A beat passes, and they continue.)

Gatsby: Now, don't try to insult me, or else I'll show you my shirts.

Nick: No, not that! Wait, what are you talking about?

Gatsby: I got a man in England who sends me clothes every season, Spring and Fall (rushes over to his wardrobe and opens it with a flourish)

(Suddenly, they are blasted with a crushing stream of sheer linen, thick silk, and fine flannel. Nick tries to swim to the surface of the multi-colored disarray, and flails his arms among shades of lavender, apple green and salmon as shining beautiful indigo monograms mock his demise.

Gatsby pulls Nick up onto the top of the wardrobe, which has become a makeshift dock. Daisy is there as well, weeping into a shirt.)

Daisy: (cries stormily, thunder is heard nearby) It makes me so sad because I've never seen such…such beautiful shirts before. (blows her nose into the shirt.)

Gatsby: Let's go to the grounds. (As Daisy and Nick leave, Gatsby subtly picks up the discarded shirt and drapes it around the Daisy shrine)

Outside: They briefly take a look at the flowers and the hydroplane before being chased inside by the Omnious Fog Setting of Doom ™

Gatsby: You know, if it wasn't so foggy, we could see your house from across the bay. I know because I can see the green light burning all night.

Daisy: Light? We don't have one. Maybe you're thinking of our neighbors.

Nick: And suddenly, the significance of the light had vanished.

Gatsby: Somehow, this doesn't seem right.

Daisy: Nothing does, it's like we're living a pathetic shadow of our expectations.

Nick: (notices a large photo of a man on Gatsby's desk) Who's this?

Gatsby: That? That's Plot Point, I mean Dan Cody, old sport. He used to be my best friend before he died of mysterious circumstances. Mysteriously.

Daisy: Oh, I adore that yacht! You never told me you had one.

Gatsby (eyes shift around the room, looking for a way to change the subject) Look, here are some clippings, about you.

Daisy: (eyes light up) Really? Oh how I love hearing about me. You're such a doll, Jay.

(phone rings)

Gatsby: (tries to whisper discretely into the phone, comes out as a stage whisper instead) Yes… Well, I know Forks, Washington is a small town, but that's not going to work…he already did what? (sighs) Well, I gave you jetpack and a machete, do what you can until I fly over on Monday. Oh, and try not to get imprinted on while I'm gone. (hangs up.)

Daisy: Look at those beautiful clouds! Oh, I just want to take you up there and push you around!

Gatsby: I spent a couple of million dollars for you and you're impressed by a bunch of clouds?

Daisy: Well, they are beautiful.

Gatsby: Fair enough. (checks his watch, thinks about what to do next) Maybe we should get Ewing to play something for us. Ewing!

(walks out of the room, but there is an audible thump as Klipspringer is pushed off his bed, his feeble protests can be heard through the doorway)

Gatsby (dragging Klipspringer by the arm) Now, Ewing's going to play for us.

Klipspringer: I'm so out of practice, I don't know if I…

Gatsby: Thank you, old sport, it's so kind of you to volunteer. You know where the piano is.

Klipspringer: (sighs, walks over to the piano. Starts playing) Desmond has a barrel in the market place….

Gatsby: Something, less specific, maybe?

Klipspringer: Like the beat, beat, beat of the Tom-Tom as it pounds against the wall…

Gatsby: No! That's obscene.

(Klipspringer tries repeatedly to find a song, Gatsby refuses his suggestions.)

Nick: Don't they find it a bit odd that all of these songs were written years from now?

Klipspringer: Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Daisy: Oh let them have their fun. I'm partial to anything as long as it's not…

Klipspringer: Every morning, every evening, ain't we got fun…

Gatsby: Perfect!

Daisy: (face falls) That.

(Klipspringer continues the song)

Nick: I noticed the elation, the pure joy in Gatsby's face. Five years! Granted, Daisy fell short of his vision at times…

Daisy: Hey!

Nick: But nothing can match the ghostly vision man has stored within his heart (continues to narrate out loud) I noticed them and saw they were in a world of their own. (starts walking) I departed into the rain.

Gatsby: Try not to get hit by the door on your way out, Nick.

(A/N: I'm very sorry for the delay. Being busy probably doesn't count as an excuse, but I wasn't sure what to do about the formatting. I honestly can't write this any other way without it looking odd, but I hope it will be okay. Maybe with the power of imagination, you can pretend to see Gatsby and the others, you won't notice it…or maybe not, but it was worth a try.)


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